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Why； all our art treasures of to…day are only the dug…up commonplaces of
three or four hundred years ago。 I wonder if there is real intrinsic
beauty in the old soup…plates； beer…mugs； and candle…snuffers that we
prize so now； or if it is only the halo of age glowing around them that
gives them their charms in our eyes。 The 〃old blue〃 that we hang about
our walls as ornaments were the common every…day household utensils of a
few centuries ago； and the pink shepherds and the yellow shepherdesses
that we hand round now for all our friends to gush over； and pretend they
understand； were the unvalued mantel…ornaments that the mother of the
eighteenth century would have given the baby to suck when he cried。
Will it be the same in the future？ Will the prized treasures of to…day
always be the cheap trifles of the day before？ Will rows of our willow…
pattern dinner…plates be ranged above the chimneypieces of the great in
the years 2000 and odd？ Will the white cups with the gold rim and the
beautiful gold flower inside （species unknown）； that our Sarah Janes now
break in sheer light…heartedness of spirit； be carefully mended； and
stood upon a bracket； and dusted only by the lady of the house？
That china dog that ornaments the bedroom of my furnished lodgings。 It
is a white dog。 Its eyes blue。 Its nose is a delicate red； with spots。
Its head is painfully erect； its expression is amiability carried to
verge of imbecility。 I do not admire it myself。 Considered as a work of
art； I may say it irritates me。 Thoughtless friends jeer at it； and even
my landlady herself has no admiration for it； and excuses its presence by
the circumstance that her aunt gave it to her。
But in 200 years' time it is more than probable that that dog will be dug
up from somewhere or other； minus its legs； and with its tail broken； and
will be sold for old china； and put in a glass cabinet。 And people will
pass it round； and admire it。 They will be struck by the wonderful depth
of the colour on the nose； and speculate as to how beautiful the bit of
the tail that is lost no doubt was。
We； in this age； do not see the beauty of that dog。 We are too familiar
with it。 It is like the sunset and the stars： we are not awed by their
loveliness because they are common to our eyes。 So it is with that china
dog。 In 2288 people will gush over it。 The making of such dogs will
have become a lost art。 Our descendants will wonder how we did it； and
say how clever we were。 We shall be referred to lovingly as 〃those grand
old artists that flourished in the nineteenth century； and produced those
china dogs。〃
The 〃sampler〃 that the eldest daughter did at school will be spoken of as
〃tapestry of the Victorian era；〃 and be almost priceless。 The blue…and…
white mugs of the present…day roadside inn will be hunted up； all cracked
and chipped； and sold for their weight in gold； and rich people will use
them for claret cups； and travellers from Japan will buy up all the
〃Presents from Ramsgate；〃 and 〃Souvenirs of Margate；〃 that may have
escaped destruction； and take them back to Jedo as ancient English
curios。
At this point Harris threw away the sculls； got up and left his seat； and
sat on his back； and stuck his legs in the air。 Montmorency howled； and
turned a somersault； and the top hamper jumped up； and all the things
came out。
I was somewhat surprised； but I did not lose my temper。 I said；
pleasantly enough：
〃Hulloa！ what's that for？〃
〃What's that for？ Why … 〃
No； on second thoughts； I will not repeat what Harris said。 I may have
been to blame； I admit it； but nothing excuses violence of language and
coarseness of expression； especially in a man who has been carefully
brought up； as I know Harris has been。 I was thinking of other things；
and forgot； as any one might easily understand； that I was steering； and
the consequence was that we had got mixed up a good deal with the tow…
path。 It was difficult to say； for the moment； which was us and which
was the Middlesex bank of the river； but we found out after a while； and
separated ourselves。
Harris； however； said he had done enough for a bit； and proposed that I
should take a turn； so； as we were in； I got out and took the tow…line；
and ran the boat on past Hampton Court。 What a dear old wall that is
that runs along by the river there！ I never pass it without feeling
better for the sight of it。 Such a mellow； bright； sweet old wall； what
a charming picture it would make； with the lichen creeping here； and the
moss growing there； a shy young vine peeping over the top at this spot；
to see what is going on upon the busy river； and the sober old ivy
clustering a little farther down！ There are fifty shades and tints and
hues in every ten yards of that old wall。 If I could only draw； and knew
how to paint； I could make a lovely sketch of that old wall； I'm sure。
I've often thought I should like to live at Hampton Court。 It looks so
peaceful and so quiet； and it is such a dear old place to ramble round in
the early morning before many people are about。
But； there； I don't suppose I should really care for it when it came to
actual practice。 It would be so ghastly dull and depressing in the
evening； when your lamp cast uncanny shadows on the panelled walls； and
the echo of distant feet rang through the cold stone corridors； and now
drew nearer； and now died away； and all was death…like silence； save the
beating of one's own heart。
We are creatures of the sun； we men and women。 We love light and life。
That is why we crowd into the towns and cities； and the country grows
more and more deserted every year。 In the sunlight … in the daytime；
when Nature is alive and busy all around us； we like the open hill…sides
and the deep woods well enough： but in the night； when our Mother Earth
has gone to sleep； and left us waking； oh！ the world seems so lonesome；
and we get frightened； like children in a silent house。 Then we sit and
sob； and long for the gas…lit streets； and the sound of human voices； and
the answering throb of human life。 We feel so helpless and so little in
the great stillness； when the dark trees rustle in the night…wind。 There
are so many ghosts about； and their silent sighs make us feel so sad。
Let us gather together in the great cities； and light huge bonfires of a
million gas…jets； and shout and sing together； and feel brave。
Harris asked me if I'd ever been in the maze at Hampton Court。 He said
he went in once to show somebody else the way。 He had studied it up in a
map； and it was so simple that it seemed foolish … hardly worth the
twopence charged for admission。 Harris said he thought that map must
have been got up as a practical joke； because it wasn't a bit like the
real thing； and only misleading。 It was a country cousin that Harris
took in。 He said：